nr 2. Tuesday april 10 2007

15 degrees C. Its 17.53 hours. While writing these first letters I remember last night and more specifically my fight with the gentlemen and women of Blogger. Not with them in person but with there virtualized excrements: the procedures and instructions by which Blogger tried to help me find my usename and password. It took one hour and a half. I did not loose or forget those keys to my Blog, they did. Of course! But I survived, like a overactive mouse in a trial and error experiment. They say this is bad tactic but I can assure you: in technical matters trial and error suits me well. So I am in.
My first letter(yesterday) was a short one and needs some explananation. What kind of place is Zaltbommel? What am I doing or used to do in Beijing? Good questions but there is bigger one. Why am I moving to Argentina?
See me sitting yesterday on that terrace in the marketplace of this small city. Tonio is with me.
6 ft. Healthy, running 3 miles a day, always walking to and fro his work. One of the rare psychologist-entrepreneurs I know. More than 24 years a colleague. Now with me in the Board of SNRSchoutenGlobal, the holding of the Schouten&NelissenGroup. also responsible for SchoutenChina. A friend. Nipping his mineral water.
"I wonder,"I said, "why I chose Argentina."
His answer: "I wondered too. Imagine the globe. Do you realise that Argentina is the perfect antipode of China?"
"No."
He laughed. I also did. Stupefied though. With my initial question I wanted to make room for my own explanation. During our visits to Beijijng, we frequented KTV and other karoakeparlors
and the only song I really fullheartedly could cover was the tearjerker: "dont cry for me Argentina." For the rest I sat or stayed laid in the leather feauteuils that borded the walls of the dark cubicle, hand in hand with the Acrobat, also called Shandong Rock, absorbing her angelique face, especially when she took the microphone and sang that slowmoving lilting and lush and lovely Chinese song.
Ton hit me right in the heart. Right. It was the Acrobat and her crazy circus act I left China for. Leaving the field. Tomorrow I am off to Argentina. Also a long distance from Holland.

Of course Acrobat is not her real name. This Blog is devoted to my life as a person, entrepreneur, writer and my text is intertwined with experiences from China, as I also am deeply involved in the creation of SchoutenChina. I write in my best English, also for my foreign friends. Also because one day the blog will be distributed in China (on our site from may 1: SchoutenChina.com).
But why "Acrobat" and not the real name? This blog features all of my
encounters and some of them deserve a pseudonym. She didnt ask for it. Though I am in the process of destroying nearly all consideration for people, in her and some other cases I stick to the old habit, I in my heart really detest more and more.

A couple of minutes ago I said goodby to My Highpriestress of Weightcontrol, Tilly, my personal coach. An attractive woman, natural rouge her cheeks, past her prime, but one of those women who will always stay lively and radiant. Cant say that of every woman (or man).
As I lost more than 7 kilogrammes of peanutbutter Tilly lef5 in a very good mood. And I am in the same "stemming", though a litle bit blocked, due to the permanent feeling of stiffness in my muscles, due to the gym first and the golf parcourse there after.
As to the gym: I went to "the people fitness centre" in 's Hertogenbosch. It is called Sportiom, a name that seems to be loaned from the former Communist Republics in Eastern Europe, silly name, doesnt fit to Den Bosch, the city that in my mind I always call "the most northern French City in Europe." Sportiom is a multifunctional sports accomodation- swimming, icehockey, fitness. In the room today, as always, the variegated ggregration of people: young, old, rich, poor
also some injured soccerplayers from my Footballclub Fc den Bosch, lazily practicing. The same ensemble in the sauna. Mixed. The sauna was good for me today, also the cold bath that heavily flooded after I jumped in. Beautiful women today. Everthing very serene though.
The three sauna's I visted in China all were seperated, there must be some wisdom in this apartheidspolicy.
After that I phoned Apple and I bougth an I ipod. The last time I had my own (casette)music was in 1993 when I crossed and recrossed the ocean. And I bougth another one. For the Acrobat. But when will i see her again? The question makes my stomach heavy. Never more I think now. Its better for me.
My house is in de Bommelerwaard, a lemon shaped polder, 40 km long, bordered by the rivers Maas en Waal. At the west point at the end of the van Heemstrabaan, you will find Almkerk, the village housing the golfcourse I prefer: simple, good food, and I dont practically know nobody: a bonus. I choose the small 3 par course.
I like all sports, and not specifically golf. But golf, just like the matchsailing I fullheartedly practice, requires constant and intense focus. This obligation to cut off all disturbing thougts makes it a good sport for me. And I liked it this afternoon.
On the ground the broken clay surface gives way to fresh grass. Old reed with their fuzzy hair is still swaying but the branches of the willow trees are full of buds, fresh and inviting like nipples.
That last one is not the way I described the abundance of spring around me when I was there, I have to remind you, but at hole nr 5, I have to tell, trying to make a swing from under one of those branches, my eye fell on one of those buds, slightly broken by the tips of softgreen leaves.
And I decided to take it into my mouth. I did. It tasted good. Like parsley. Could easily be a standard ingredient for any cook in the world.
I chewed quitly. Taking the tast with me to the next tee.
Hanging above the ball I tried to swallow. Succesfully. But the sudden bitter taste in my throat distracted me and the ball, well hit, nearly went to China. Not to the hole.
I couldn"t care less.